


The Throne

by amberwoods



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries & Related Fandoms, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, Royalty AU, basically just a fluffy little nothing with some sexual tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 18:05:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5258477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amberwoods/pseuds/amberwoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carolina di Filuciano is marriage candidate thirty-two to the King. Nevertheless, she didn't come to the palace for the King's crown. She came for his throne. (Or 'the one in which King Klaus finds his future wife trying to steal his position in the middle of the night')</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Throne

She figured it out days ago. The hidden door leads into the tunnel. The tunnel leads to the throne hall. There are stairs there. If you climb them, you end up in a hallway at the top of the throne hall, hidden behind the ceiling. There are small windows there through which the guards can look down into the throne hall during gatherings there. Tonight, there’s no one there, though. The hallway is empty.

She opens one of the windows. It’s small, but she is slender, and she fits right through. Now comes the tricky part.

She lowers herself through the window, keeping a tight grip on the sill with gloves that help her. Slowly, she starts swinging, until her feet manage to cross themselves around the silver ornament in the corner of the hall. For a moment, she just hangs there. She takes a deep breath – then she releases her hands.

It takes a lot of strength to keep her feet wrapped around the silver. She can’t keep herself from looking down.

The throne hall looks strange from this perspective. Large, but bizarre, like in a dream. She feels the blood rushing to her head.

So, she takes a deep breath again and starts pulling herself up. Her body is shaking a little by the time her hands are around the ornament as well. She’s huddled up in the corner of the throne hall, fifty feet above the ground. She reaches for the black rope around her waist. She can hear it gliding over her belt in the complete silence of the hall.

How long has it been since she got to wear trousers? Too long.

With apt fingers she wraps the rope around the silver and secures it. Then she lets it drop. Her eyes follow the snake of fibres down into the darkness of the hall. It’s thin, and light, but she knows it will hold. So, quickly, soundlessly, flexibly, she starts climbing down. The feeling of the rope in her hands and nothing but air beneath her feet gives her a familiar rush that she missed. Before long she’s reached the ground.

When she finally stands on the marble floors of the throne hall, she allows herself a small smirk. Everything feels like it fits right into place when she walks towards the target of her midnight trip. She climbs the stairs leading up to the throne, her eyes on the black and silver. Even without light, it seems to be shining. She stops right in front of it and reaches out to touch its armrest. The metal feels flawless underneath her finger tips. She shivers lightly.

Then, slowly, she lowers herself onto the throne. Satisfaction washes over her while she leans back in the throne and she chuckles. She’s waited for so long.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart…”

Out of nowhere, like a shadow in the dark, someone is standing in front of the throne. He grabs the armrests with both hands, capturing her arms, and leans towards her. When she looks up into his face, his eyes are those of a king.

“That’s my seat.”

She keeps her eyes on him, feeling his hands pressing her arms into the armrests painfully, and of course she recognises him. Yet still she smiles.

“You got me,” she says.

“I do,” he says softly, “So I suppose you get a chance to explain now.”

“Explain what?” she asks, “Why I snuck into your throne hall in the middle of the night and sat down on the master’s seat?”

He tilts his head and clicks his tongue. “Couldn’t you come up with something better?”

“I’d say I’m not a liar,” she answers with a small smile, “But I suppose you wouldn’t believe that.”

He sighs deeply and backs off a little. “Carolina di Filuciano. Daughter to the duke of Filuciano. Beautiful, well-tempered, accomplished. You’re candidate number thirty-two.”

She relaxes back in the throne again and crosses her legs. “Now, that’s all true,” she smiles.

“Yet here we are,” he says softly.

She tilts her head. “Would you spill everything during the first meeting? If I remember correctly, you didn’t say a word.”

“Well.” He smiles now too. “Maybe I should have.”

“And what would you have said?”

“I would have asked you what you were hiding behind that fake smile.”

Her smile widens momentarily. Her eyes mock him. “Do you think I would have answered?”

“You said you’re not a liar.”

“I’m quite accomplished at evading, though.”

He leans back in again, hovering over her. He’s handsome from up close. “And I’m _quite_ accomplished at getting straight-forward answers.” There’s a sharpness to his words, a threatening edge that she likes even if she couldn’t say why.

“Do you give them yourself too? Can I ask you, how exactly did you know to come here?”

He grins. “Intuition?”

She narrows her eyes in suspicion. “My, are you a liar, my liege?”

“Only when it helps me.”

“How royal.”

“What do you want, miss di Filuciano?”

She smiles at him. “Why, I’m a simple girl.” Slowly, she lifts up her hand and presses it to his cheek. Softly, she caresses his cheek, feeling the texture of his skin underneath her fingers. “I want what you have.”

He smiles back at her. “I’m sorry. _My_ seat. But if you’re a good girl…” His eyes wander over her for a bit. “I might let you sit on my lap.”

“Hm,” she smiles, “I’m not sure I’d be satisfied with that.”

He looks her in the eye again. “You’re not?” he asks quasi-innocently.

“I want your seat, my liege,” she tells him while she removes her hand from his cheek, “And I want everything that comes with it.”

“I’m afraid there’s no chance that will happen. I’m sure you understand.”

“I suppose I did underestimate you.” She tilts her head again and looks at him questioningly. “So what now?”

“Well, my lady,” he grins, “I suppose I will escort you back to your rightful place.”

She scoffs. “And where might that be?”

Finally, he removes his hands from her arms and stands up straight, putting his hands behind his back. “Why, your rooms, of course.”

She eyes him suspiciously for a moment.

He can’t help but grin. “What?” he chuckles, “Did you expect to hear ‘the guillotine’?”

“Well,” she answers, “When taking a closer look at you, I gathered you might actually fancy such things."

He closes in on her again and reaches for her neck. When he places his hand on her skin, her breathing is shallow. “And ruin such a perfect neck? No. There must be some better use for it yet.”

Again, her eyes narrow. “Are you blackmailing me?”

“Well, you _are_ sitting on my throne in the middle of the night,” he grins. He removes his hand from her neck and reaches it out to her instead. “Miss di Filuciano?” he asks politely.

Still suspicious, she take his hand. “My liege.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> There. I got this one out of my head. Thank you for reading!


End file.
